Home: see also, Lab
by bonnie-incognito
Summary: As the conspiracy surrounding Brennan's shady past thickens, the team must fight to keep her from the clutches of former nemesis, Special Agent Jamie Kenton, but their progress is hindered by one of the most baffling cases to ever hit the Jeffersonian...
1. Chapter 1

_Hey._ _This is my first Bones FF, so... be nice. This is set during just after Season Two, as I've yet to see Season Three (no Sky, and the dvd's yet to make an appearance), so no BB so far, or whatever the hell else has happened in S3 that I don't know about. _

_**Disclaimer: **I don't do disclaimers. It's all in the terms and conditions that I agreed to when I signed up. _

**-x-**

"Kenton. Jamie Kenton. Remember him?" asked Booth, striding into the room and slamming a wad of papers onto the grey bedside locker.

"Not likely to forget him," replied Brennan, shifting awkwardly in the unfamiliar hospital bed. "Remind me - argh! - why I have to stay here?"

"'Cos you broke your neck, Bones," he muttered, declaring this as if expecting it to foil the logic of the impatient doctor lying in the bed before him.

"Yeah - well, not badly!" she protested.

"Bones, there's no such thing as a broken neck that's not badly broken." He flopped into a garishly coloured plastic chair, resting his head against the windowsill and propping his feet up on the end of the bed.

"I could be dead," she said reasonably. "And feet off the bed," she admonished, nudging him with a pointed toe.

"Bones!" he burst out, throwing his hands in the air exasperatedly and ignoring her rebuke. "Surely even you, with your warped view of the world outside of your lab, can see how this might be a valid reason for just a_ weeny_ little hospital stay?"

"Okay, okay, I see your point." She abandoned her attempt to sit up and lay back on the crisp white pillows. "Kenton?" Booth lent across the bed, his elbow accidentally brushing against her as he reached for the papers he'd left on the locker. She winced, stifling a cry as blood slowly stained the covers, the multiple stab wounds to her stomach reopening at his touch and bleeding profusely. "Booth!"

Much apologetic mumbling and inept changing of sheets by disgruntled nurses followed, interspersed with worried exclamations of, "Hey, hey! Watch the neck!" from Booth.

The conversation restarted, a freshly stitched and patched Brennan sat up in bed, Booth with his feet on the floor and a nurse hovering around the door. Booth glared at her. She left hurriedly, mumbling about an emergency somewhere else.

"_Kenton_?" said Brennan pointedly.

"Huh? Oh, right, Kenton. Get this; he escaped from jail a week ago," said Booth, raising his eyebrows and fanning himself with the papers. "Phew, can we open a window in here? I feel like a lobster," he complained.

"You're the one with legs that work," she pointed out. "Why weren't we informed about this?"

"I dunno, ask Hodgins! Part of some FBI conspiracy, no doubt..."

"Hey, don't knock Hodgins."

"Yeah, whatever. We found Kenton's fingerprints in your apartment. Window frames, bedroom door, etcetera, on the closet next to where we found evidence of a struggle." He settled back in the chair, listing the areas on one hand and scratching the back of his head with the other.

"Wha-- evidence of a struggle? Evidence of a strugg-- the guy knifed me from behind and snapped my neck; it wasn't a struggle, it was a butchering!" she exclaimed.

"It's called blood, Bones, blood. Lots of it. Not to mention the messed up rug and bloody handprint on said closet. And you, the unconscious body, 'cos you know, that, that always helps with identifying a crime scene, a body."

"Wait, I don't - I don't remember hitting the closet."

"Yeah. I'm sure there's a lot of things you don't remember about that night, Bones."

**-x-**

_So. Good, bad, or ugly?  
_

_Your reviews mean a lot to me. I won't hold my story hostage for reviews, but it's great to know what people think! Concrit is always welcome, but flames will be used to toast marshmallows... (to be shared, of course, with nicer reviewers! __)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy, I hope!  
**

**-x-**

Her eyes flickered open, adjusting to the almost-morning light in the room. She sat up groggily, listening for more suspicious creaks like the one that woken her. Instead, she was greeted with a soft bang and a muffled expletive, all coming from beyond the sliver of artificial light that was the crack in her bedroom door. Instantly, she was on alert, tiptoeing stealthily to the door, grabbing a particularly heavy book on the way. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to open the door, to see what lay beyond, but the rational part of her was telling her to open the door, fend off the intruder before things got any further. Still, she hesitated. The slight grating noise of a door against carpet reached her ears, followed by barely discernible footsteps, and another door being opened somewhere very nearby.

Holding her breath and taking a step backwards, she threw open the bedroom door and was immediately barrelled into by approximately six foot of murderous revenge and she was kicking and it was making no difference and there was a knife, oh _god_, there was a knife and it was glinting in the watery light streaming through the windows and it was plunging into her again and again and again and --

"Bones? Bones!" She jolted awake abruptly with the unpleasant sensation of having been falling. Booth was sat forward in the patient armchair, leaning over her slightly and looking distinctly concerned. "What's the matter, Bones?"

"Huh?" she managed, wiping sleep from her eyes. "Did I wake you? Why are you here? It must be way past visiting hours!" She glanced at the clock on her locker. "Booth, it's 2am!"

"I must've fallen asleep," he lied. He'd been watching her. Or, as he explained it to himself, watching over her.

"And, obviously, the nurses couldn't bear to wake you because it's such an improvement of character when you're asleep," she finished for him, rolling her eyes. "Booth, go home. Get some sleep. Don't you have a case or something you'll need to concentrate on tomorrow?"

"I believe you mean today. And, uh, yeah, actually; it involves a certain Temperance Brennan and, let's see, attempted murder," he replied snarkily.

"Booth, there's dead people out there whose families need your help a lot more than I do."

"Yeah? Well, that's not the way I see it. Someone is trying to kill you, and I will not rest until I've caught the bastard," he said matter-of-factly, in a manner suggestive of talking to somebody extremely slow. "Angela said she'd pop in tomorrow - today - after work."

"You say that every day. You don't all need to come visit me every day, you know. I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself for a few days." Booth suspected she knew she was going to be hospitalized for more than just a few days, but didn't say anything.

"We don't; Zach only visited the first day, and Cam had a date yesterday, so..." He settled back further into the chair, tipping his head back and exhaling loudly. "Toffee?" he offered, fishing around in his pockets and producing a few brightly coloured sweets.

"I'm still on... mushy stuff," she replied, wrinkling her nose at the thought of another pureed hospital meal. He shrugged and deposited the toffees on the locker, twisting the wrapper off one and popping it in his mouth. "Could you tell Angela to grab some stuff from my apartment? The toothpaste here is beginning to taste like, well..."

"Shit?" proffered Booth.

"Kinda," agreed Brennan. "She has a key."

"Bones, your apartment is an active crime scene, I can't let just anyone walk in there."

"But Angela's not 'just anyone', she's Angela," she objected.

"How 'bout I get your stuff instead; what do you need?" he asked warily.

"Just, stuff," she shrugged.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff," she replied unhelpfully. Booth sighed.

"I'll pull some strings."

**-x-**

"So, Booth; Kenton the type the play games with us?" enquired Angela. "Because if this is gonna be Howard Epps all over again, I am not looking forward to the ride." Booth scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Never struck me as the kind of guy to mess around with half-jobs," mused Booth. "Then again, he never struck me as the kind of guy who went in for kidnap and murder," he admitted woefully.

"Brighten up, Booth - he's not smart like Epps, we should have no problem finding him." She plastered on a fake smile. "Once the FBI guys get a move on with the apartment, that is," she added under her breath.

"That makes it more difficult," came a stiff voice from behind Booth. He twisted round to face Zach.

"Oh?"

"Epps was smart. Kenton isn't as smart. We found it easy to connect with Epps. Because we're smart. We might not be able to follow Kenton's train of thought. There might be no logic to his plan." The young doctor spoke in short, disjointed sentences, looking up from his work on some unidentified skeletal remains only momentarily as he voiced his concerns.

"Only you could make that whole logic thing sound like the end of the world, Zach," commented Hodgins from the other side of the platform.

"Well, theoretically, the abolition of logic from society would certainly be the end of the world we currently know, and --"

"I don't need to hear this," interrupted Booth. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and stood up to leave. "Angela, Bones asked if you could grab some stuff from her apartment before your visit. Just tell the guys you know me, they should let you in."

"Sure," replied Angela cheerfully, already going back to work on a face for Zach's skeleton as he walked out of the lab, wondering exactly what this 'stuff' entailed.

**-x-**

"Hey, sweetie!"

"Hi, Angela." Brennan lay her book down in her lap.

"I got your - Brenn, are you reading Harry Potter?"

"Yes. Why? The woman in the room next door to me lent it to me. We got talking when I passed by. It's fascinating, actually, the integration of the supernatural into a modern society, and the spells are all based in Latin, so --"

"Yeah, whatever. By tomorrow afternoon, you'll have finished Deathly Hallows, knowing you," said Angela, dumping her bags beside the bed and sitting down.

"I don't know what that means."

"Of course you don't. Never mind," she sighed, shaking her head in amusement. "I got your stuff."

"Ugh, thanks. Like I told Booth, the toothpaste tasted like--"

"Shit, I know. So does the coffee," she grimaced, taking a sip from the waxy paper cup in her hand. Brennan smiled. "Things are pretty dire back at the lab. We're all worried sick, you know, and don't you tell me it's irrational."

"There'll always be killers on the loose," disagreed Brennan, struggling to get comfortable as she sat up straighter in the bed.

"Yeah, and sometimes it seems they're all after you, Brenn."

"While I know that's actually impossible, I know what you mean," she admitted.

"For once!" laughed Angela, binning the shit-coffee. "And, sweetie, I think you need to loosen up a little with Booth; he's just trying to keep you safe, you know," she added. "I know you hate being cooped up like this with no independence, but you're really in no fit state to defend yourself right now, so... do us all a favour and let Booth help you, okay?"

**-x-**

**There'll probably be some action next chapter, if that's what you're looking for... okay, so that sounds wrong! ;) Oh well, it's Booth and Brennan, what can you expect?  
**

**If you liked it, please review, if not, either concrit or go away.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Uh, Dr Brennan?" Zach tapped her lightly on the shoulder, withdrawing his hand sharply as she stirred. "Dr Brennan?" He sat stiffly in a chair beside her bed. "Dr Brennan, we have a case," he said uncomfortably. Her eyes flew open.

"Zach?"

"Yes. It's me."

"Okay. What've you got?" she asked, indicating the plastic folder in his hands.

"The victim is female, early to mid thirties. We found her in a nearby forest. She shows signs of advanced osteoporosis, including severe loss of bone mass and evidence of multiple recent fractures. Cam says she also displays extreme muscle deterioration. Her sacroiliac joints show signs of premature wear, and there's also significant damage to her lower spinal discs, indicating frequent use of an athletic training exercise called 'straight-legged deadlifts'. Knee damage indicates excessive squats," he said monotonously, flipping through the file.

"An athlete?" she guessed. He shook his head.

"Not enough wear to the hip joints in relativity to the damage to the knees."

"Time of death?"

"Hodgins estimates she's been dead for at least three weeks. Aren't you going to ask about the cause of death?"

"Well, do you know it?"

"No. There isn't one." Brennan rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Are you in pain, Dr Brennan?"

"No, Zach, it's just... what do you mean there's no cause of death? There must be."

"I concede. There is no _apparent_ cause of death," he explained, spreading sheets of paper across the bed.

"Is it murder?"

"I can't decide. Booth wants me to say it is, so he can involve the FBI, but I can't be certain," he admitted.

"Don't let Booth pressure you into making the wrong choice. It's _your _decision."

"I know."

"What about the fractures? Defensive wounds?"

"No. They show evidence of healing. Most likely they're a result of her osteoporosis combined with..."

"Clumsiness?"

"Yes."

"What do you think? Should I declare it a murder, or not?"

"I think... it would be a better use of your time to work on identifying the victim, rather than the cause of death." Zach's face took on an expression of acute confusion.

"Why?"

"Cam was right; we're bone people. If our victim had some sort of hereditary condition, the evidence of which has been erased during decomp, her family will know about it," she shrugged.

Zach nodded. "Should I send Cam and Hodgins over later?"

"If you like," she said indifferently. There was an awkward silence in the room for a few minutes, until, "Zach, did you move Jasper?"

"What? Who's Jasper?" he asked, bewildered. "Are you on medication?" he enquired suspiciously.

"Jasper, my pig. And yes, I am, but nothing hallucinogenic," she said doubtfully, checking the little bottles beside her bed.

"Oh. No. I did not move the pig."

"I could swear I left him on the locker," she mused. The little figurine now stood on the window sill, bathed in watery afternoon sunlight.

A nurse appeared in the doorway.

"Mr Addy, visiting hour is over until 3pm, it's time for-" She blanched at the crime scene pictures spread across Brennan's legs. "Mr Addy, you are _disturbing_ the patient! This, this - _this_ will not help aid the patient's recovery from her mental trauma!"

"What mental trau--"

"No, he's not," interrupted Brennan. "_Dr_ Addy and I were just discussing the details of our latest case. If it's making you uncomfortable, you're more than welcome to leave," she suggested. The nurse looked pointedly away from the photographs.

"Still. It's time for Dr Addy to leave, anyway. We're about to serve lunch," she announced in a disgruntled tone.

Zach gathered the papers back into the file and stood to leave. The nurse glared at him. He stopped in the doorway, eyeing the lunch trolley with evident distrust.

"Enjoy your mush, Dr Brennan."

**-x-**

"SQUINTS! Squints, we have a problem!" Booth yelled, storming into the Jeffersonian. Hodgins skidded out of a sideroom, jogging after Booth as he tried to catch a glimpse of the sheaf of papers being waved about two feet above his head.

"Hey, isn't that... Dude, this is not good," breathed Hodgins, his face contradicting his words as his eyes took on a conspiratorial gleam.

Up on the platform, a bewildered looking Angela abandoned her tablet and descended the steps to where Zach was working on what had come to be known as the 'Undead' case, due to the lack of evidence pertaining to the cause of death. The skittering of Cam's heels on the hard floor signalled the presence of the entire team. She wore a transparent plastic mask and held what appeared to be a piece of flaming spam between a pair of metal tongs.

"This better be good, Booth," she growled, extinguishing the spam with a sharp blow.

"FBI got an anonymous tip-off from a disposable cell phone in Virginia, digitally-altered voice, the works. We get there and find a very familiar face in a shallow grave just off the highway, single gunshot wound the head." He flipped the papers over to reveal a photograph of a woman on an autopsy table, her eyes scrunched shut and a dark red circle decorating her pallid forehead.

"Oh, my God," gasped Angela.

"How many lives does this woman have? We already buried her once," muttered Hodgins.

"We've found... Christine Brennan," declared Cam, shaking her head and pulling off her mask tiredly.

Zach scratched his head. "Again."

**-x-**

"You go."

"What! Why me?" protested Hodgins.

"You got buried alive together!"

"So? Angela should go!"

"No. No way. I'm not telling her we found her mother again! She practically bit my head off last time."

"Guys, shut up! Booth should go," said Cam.

"Yeah, that's reasonable," agreed Hodgins. Zach nodded mutely.

"No. I'm not doing it! Zach should do it."

"How about we _all_ go," suggested Cam wearily.

"Oh, right... okay."

"Sounds good to me."

"Let's do it."

The five of them shuffled into Brennan's room uneasilt, standing in a crowd at the foot of her bed. She looked at them expectantly, amusement colouring her expression. Angela poked Booth in the back.

"Um... hi, Bones," he mumbled. "We, er, have something to, uh, tell you."

"Seeley Booth, you wimp," sighed Cam, elbowing her way to the front of the little party. "Brennan, we found your mother. Again. Dead."

"Well, this is... suitably awkward," muttered Hodgins.

"No. I just - what? That's... impossible," stated Brennan, slipping down further into her pillows with a groan.

"This her?" asked Cam, leaning over the rails and handing her the autopsy pictures.

"Yes. No. Yes - it can't be!"

"The Bureau wants a DNA sample, sweetie," said Angela sympathetically.

"Sure," she mumbled distractedly, silent tears creeping down her face as she deposited the papers back into Cam's hands.

"Listen to me, Bones, I'm _so_ sorry, we're looking into as best as we can," promised Booth.

A familiar voice spoke from the door. "People, I would say you are _definitely_ disturbing the patient."

* * *

**Ugh, damn thing always manages to delete my AN. **

**Okay, please excuse any mistakes if you find them; Dr Brennan may not be in paain, but I _am_. Horrid jabs... Which leads me to my next point. I'll try to get at least two chpaters up before I go away, but no promises. I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed, even if it's not very popular! I've noticed I have lots of faves/alerts, so it would be fantastic if those of you who fave/alert me could also take two minutes to leave a review, me being the review-whore I am. **


End file.
